


The Effects of Many Frozen Blue Margaritas on One Australian Doctor

by angelgazing



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-24
Updated: 2010-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelgazing/pseuds/angelgazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chase would never be stupid enough to turn up at House's place drunk, and, even if he were that stupid, House would certainly never let him in. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Effects of Many Frozen Blue Margaritas on One Australian Doctor

Chase is a lot of things. A doctor. Guilty. (Catholic.) Blond. Laidback and easygoing. He's always in his father's shadow, and the current record holder for doctor with the most ten-year-olds in love with him, (the previous winner of the award had been Wilson, and Chase had _crushed_ his numbers with a smile.) He was near the top of his class, much to the amazement of everyone involved, and almost compulsively punctual.

He is also very drunk and very, very stupid.

A fact that House is all too happy to point out, because Chase may be a lot of things, but right now he's mostly stupid and drunk. And possibly a little confused because—"I don't know what I'm doing here."

"Well," House says, and smirks, and leans a little more heavily on his cane like he does when he's in pain, but something is just going to be too good—too much _fun_—to pass up. Chase likes to think it's the stance he takes when he's getting ready to murder the puppies he eats for breakfast. There aren't words for how thankful he is to not be phased by that look anymore. "That makes two of us," House continues, and Chase realizes a little bit too late that it's over his not-so-internal thoughts of puppy murderers.

It's been a long night.

"I'm not going to sleep with you just because you're inebriated," House says. "It's not really _my_ style to take advantage of people."

"It's exactly your style," Chase answers, tripping over the words in his haste and surety. He tries not to slur and over-enunciates. He pokes dramatically in the general direction of House with his index finger, because it seems like a point to bring home. "As I'm sure Wilson could confirm."

House snorts, and his mouth twitches like maybe he's just so amused by himself that he can't keep it all down. Apparently he decides now is the time to pull out his bad rendition of a British accent, "Jolly right, old chap!"

"I hate you." Chase sighs, and slumps against the doorframe because he's defeated and he can't really feel his feet. He tries to ignore how that's almost a pun, because it's almost a really, really bad pun, and a really, really bad pun would just be too much to handle right now. "I hate you and I think you're an evil, self-absorbed, self-loathing son of a bitch and you had _no right_ not to tell me. You knew, and you had no right to keep it from me."

He'd do that index-finger-pokey-thing again, but he's pretty sure he'd fall if he did, so he settles for clinging to the doorframe tightly and glaring like he's been practicing since even Subby McBottomsalot laughed at his previous stern looks. And, oh god, House is in his _head_ and he's never going to recover, because House knows everything and Chase will never live this down.

House looks like maybe he's going to start laughing and Chase is trying to think of what his new name will be, when he flees the country to get away from all of this. He could always tattle on House again. Witness protection would probably pick his new name for him, set him up in some small town in Nebraska where he'd spend his days working at Kum and Go until he died of boredom. But House, knowing everything, would find him and manage to kill him first. So probably not gonna do that then.

"I'm still not going to sleep with you," House says, and bats his eyelashes and leans forward on his cane, "no matter _how_ much you try and flatter me." And Chase—being many, many things; a horrible person among them—is really just waiting for the day that House leans too far on the cane and falls on his nose.

"I slept with Cameron, you know." Chase grins, and figures that if booze gives him balls he might as well put them to use, because House looks interested all of a sudden, and Chase doesn't even care that it's probably not for the right reasons. Also, he's still going to flee the country once the hangover passes in the morning, because he really hates everyone here a lot. "It was… I have to tell you, House, it was _not_ worth all the pining that you've done."

"Does it bother you that your father didn't think you cared enough to tell you that he was dying?"

"You know, Stacy has got _amazing_ legs. Her short skirts and high-heels, _walking_ through the—"

"You said you didn't care," House says, and looks kind of impressed, like Chase just guessed the disease before the others. The look is going to give Chase nightmares, he just _knows it_. The hair on the back of his neck is standing on end, because this can only mean that House is going to come along one day with a lot of punishment. Alphabetical listings for causes of neck pain punishment. "You said it was easier to not care."

Chase laughs, roughly, and it gets stuck in his throat. "You think you were doing me a favor?" He shakes his head, and then regrets it because it makes everything kind of spin. He rests his temple on the doorframe, to try and make it all still.

"If I were the kind of man who did favors I'd probably invite you in. Bet you wish you'd shown up at Wilson's door instead now, don't you?"

"Are you hoping I'll report back to you on whether it's worth trying to wait out all his women?"

"I'm not inviting you in," House repeats, and Chase really didn't doubt him the first time, so he's not sure why there's been a sudden call for redundancy. "And I'm not chivalrous enough to call you a cab."

Chase snorts, and is, maybe, sliding vaguely downwards. His thumb hooks in the door catch. "Wouldn't have dreamed of it," he says.


End file.
